De Launey. You have a free hand, Monsieur de Flue. Give it to them! [De Launey, de Flue, and the Swiss Guards go out into the other court.]
Vintimille [meditates with an ironical smile. A few steps from him, the Pensioners are guarding the cannon.] Our evil conscience! The corporal thinks he has a right to a conscience! He's richer than I. Conscience! It is neither good nor bad. It simply does not exist. Honor, yes. Honor? Under the late King, honor consisted in scheming for him to take one's wife or sister—provided they were presentable—for a mistress, or else in marrying the titled courtesan—honor! And now to have it barked at by this brothel-whelp. Let us not trouble honor. Really, I don't know why I am fighting here. Loyalty? Fidelity to the King? We are too used to clear thinking to be deceived by empty phrases. I have not believed in the King for many a long year. Well, then? [He shrugs his shoulders.] Habit, manners, fashion? We know we are wrong, we do not believe in what we are doing, and yet we must go through it to the end and behave correctly, elegantly, in order to conceal the utter uselessness of our existence. [Great confusion outside. The Swiss Guards suddenly rush back with de Flue and de Launey from the exterior court.]
The Swiss Guards. They are coming!
Vintimille. What! Who are coming? The people? Impossible!
De Flue [without troubling to answer]. Quick! Up with the draw-bridge! God Almighty!
De Launey. To the cannon! [The Swiss Guards
